Nowhere to Run
by CaroH
Summary: The Musketeers become embroiled in a murder mystery at an estate in the country.
1. Chapter 1

This story is set between seasons one and two.

 **Nowhere to Run**

 **Chapter One**

After riding since sun-up with only a brief stop for lunch it was a relief to see the chimneys of the manor house rising above the trees. They had crossed into the estate of the Baron Berreyer approximately an hour previously and had been impressed with the neat fields which were either filled with cattle and sheep or wheat and barley. It was harvest time and there were men working on cutting down the crops, while women with large baskets gathered apples and pears from a small orchard. Birds trilled from the treetops and scavenged among the bruised fruit which had been discarded on the ground. It was peaceful; almost idyllic, Aramis thought.

Although the four of them had started out together they would soon split up. The King appeared to have written to every provincial nobleman within a two-day journey from Paris and had entrusted the letters to his Musketeers to deliver. Despite the menial task Aramis was determined to enjoy himself. Autumn had started blustery and wet before settling into sun-drenched days and mild nights. The weather was as perfect as the surroundings.

They rode through a small copse of trees and there was the house in front of them. It was three storey's high, built of brick and devoid of any decoration. In size it wasn't dissimilar to the home of the former Comte de la Fere. Aramis looked speculatively at the back of Athos' head. He couldn't imagine giving up a life of luxury to become a soldier although he understood what had motivated his brother to do just that.

The front door opened as they approached and a man walked out to greet them. He was tall, of middle years, and with a fringe of nondescript brown hair surrounding a bald head bronzed by the sun. His smile was professional and didn't reach his eyes which remained wary. Aramis assumed that it wasn't often four soldiers turned up on the doorstep.

Athos stopped his horse and inclined his head in greeting. "I am Athos of the King's Musketeers. These are Aramis, Porthos and d'Artagnan. We have a letter from the King for Baron Berreyer."

"You are welcome, gentlemen. My name is Vayle and I have the honour of being the Baron's steward. Come inside. The stable boy will care for your mounts. Can I offer you any refreshments?"

"Thank you, but we just need to see the Baron."

"Of course. If you would follow me."

He led them into the entrance hall. It had a faded grandeur about it. There were vases on plinths but no flowers. The tapestries which must once have been vibrant now looked dull and lifeless. Surfaces which should have contained ornaments to demonstrate the owner's wealth lay empty.

"Please wait here while I announce you," Vayle said before leaving them.

Porthos looked around. "Seems to me the Baron might have fallen on hard times," he said.

"That's surprising having seen his lands. They are bountiful." Athos walked over to a particularly delicate wall hanging and examined it. "This would not have been cheap."

"I haven't seen any other servants," d'Artagnan said. "How many would it take to run a household of this size?"

"Between fifteen and twenty probably, including gardeners and stable hands."

"I saw a patch of garden on the way in and it looked neglected," Aramis said.

"Yes. The gardens are usually the province of the lady of the house and Treville told us she died just over a year ago. Perhaps the Baron has no interest in horticulture." Athos rejoined his colleagues and pulled the letter out of his doublet.

When Vayle returned he beckoned them forwards. "The Baron will see you now."

He ushered them into a large study. There was a picture window behind a beautifully polished oak desk and the walls were lined with shelves. Each shelf was laden with books and parchments. This was clearly the Baron's passion and not a cheap one. Athos and Aramis removed their hats and all stood respectfully in front of the desk.

The Baron had dark hair which was turning grey at the temples. His shoulders were stooped, giving the impression that he spent much of his time hunched over his desk. Clear brown eyes gazed at them amiably although there was no welcoming smile.

"I believe you have a missive from the King."

"Yes, my lord." Athos stepped forward and laid the letter on the desk.

The Baron looked at it but made no attempt to open it. Aramis had no idea what it contained, although these days it was usually a plea for money. Rumour had it that the treasury was almost bare.

"Thank you," the Baron said. "You will stay the night? There is plenty of room."

"That's very kind of you," Athos said. "We can manage just as well outdoors."

"Nonsense. It isn't often we receive visitors. You will dine with my family and I tonight. I insist. Vayle, make up some rooms on the third floor."

"Yes, sir."

The third floor, Aramis knew, would contain the servants' quarters so the rooms were likely to be tiny. Still, it was better than camping out on the hard ground and having to catch their own dinner.

"There is a well out at the back of the house where you can draw water to freshen yourselves up. Dinner is at seven."

It was a dismissal. All bowed and took their leave. The horses had gone, presumably to the stables. They still hadn't seen any servants either inside or outside the house. The well was in full sunshine and, after washing the dirt from their face and hands, Aramis perched on the rim and looked around.

"Does it seem too quiet around here?" he asked. He looked to Athos for a response.

"Yes. I get the feeling that all is not well here despite the warmth of our welcome."

"I wonder what family he has," d'Artagnan said. He was squinting in the bright sunshine.

"Treville didn't say. Well, we'll find out at dinner. I suggest we go and retrieve our saddlebags then find the rooms allocated to us. It would be pleasant to rest for a while before we join our host." Athos wiped the moisture off his face with a handkerchief before leading the way to the stables.

TMTMTM

They had been given two rooms each containing two beds. Aramis and Porthos took one while Athos and d'Artagnan took the other. Shortly before seven Vayle knocked on their doors, saying he would show them the way to the dining room. During the last couple of hours, they had brushed the detritus of the road from their clothes, polished their boots and oiled and sharpened their weapons. They were as respectable as they were going to get.

They followed Vayle down two flights of stairs. At the bottom he turned left and led them along a hallway. As they neared the end Athos could hear raised voices coming from the room ahead of them. He couldn't make out the words but it was clear that someone wasn't happy. Vayle hesitated before opening the door and standing aside so that they could enter.

The voices stilled. The Baron sat at one end of the table where a young man loomed over him, his face red and angry. He backed away when he saw them. A distressed look crossed the Baron's face to be replaced by an urbane expression.

"May I introduce my son, Francois? Francois, these gentlemen come from the King."

"They're soldiers," Francois said in a condescending tone. "I'm surprised you invited them to dine with us."

"Hush. Where are your manners?"

That rebuke only served to increase the young man's ire. There was an uncomfortable silence broken by the sound of something striking the floor outside the room. The door opened and a woman entered. She was limping and using a cane for support. Athos glanced quickly at her leg and then looked away. Her right foot was twisted outwards which accounted for her uneven gait. He and the others bowed politely. With her blond hair and blue eyes she would have been attractive except for the fact that her mouth was pulled down at the corners and there was a crease between her eyes. She ignored them as she made her way towards the chair at the Baron's left hand.

"My daughter, Josette," the Baron said. "Please come and sit."

Francois took his place at his father's right hand before the Musketeers ranged themselves on either side of the table. The Baron cleared his throat and then rang a small bell. Immediately Vayle entered through a door in the side wall. Athos caught a glimpse of the kitchen on the other side of it. Plates and a tureen of soup were placed on the table.

"You came straight from Paris?" the Baron asked.

"Yes," Athos said. "It's nice to be out of the city for a while. We were very impressed with your estate as we rode through it. Is the harvest going well?"

"It's been a good year."

"How many villages are there on the estate?" Aramis asked.

"Three. None is particularly large. We supply them with meat through the winter and, in return, they provide services and pay taxes."

"You are too lax with them," Francois said. "They can afford more than they pay."

"They have a right to make a living as well," the Baron said. "How would it serve our interests if they were to starve."

Athos had the feeling this was a long running argument and pitied the villagers once Francois inherited the estate. While they had been talking Vayle had poured wine. Athos sampled it. The taste of cherries exploded in his mouth. "This is very fine wine."

"It comes from the Loire valley," the Baron said. "My cousin has a vineyard there."

"I'm sure it's far superior to what you usually drink," Francois said with a sneer.

Athos decided to ignore the insulting remark and turned his attention to the soup. It was thick with vegetables and very well-seasoned.

"You look young to be a Musketeer." Josette spoke for the first time and was looking at d'Artagnan.

"I was fortunate that the King granted me a commission," d'Artagnan said.

"He deserved it," Porthos added.

"I'm sure he's very brave," she said, giving him a shy smile.

D'Artagnan looked away, appearing discomfited by the attention. Athos knew he was still pining after Constance who had chosen to stay with her husband.

The soup plates were cleared away before Vayle brought in roast goose and mounds of vegetables. The Baron carved and handed out the plates.

"I hear the Queen is expecting a child," the Baron said. "After all these years of marriage that is welcome news."

Athos glanced across the table at Aramis. "There was great rejoicing when Her Majesty's pregnancy was announced."

"The country needs the stability of an heir," the Baron went on, oblivious to the undercurrents swirling around Athos and Aramis.

"The King, as you can imagine, is very happy," Athos said.

"Tell us about life at Court," Josette asked.

"I'm afraid from our perspective it is very dull but, the King does hold spectacular balls at Easter and Christmas," Aramis said. "With everyone in their finery they are glittering occasions."

"I wish I could go to Court," she said wistfully.

"Why?" Francois said. "It's not as if you could dance," he added spitefully.

She immediately coloured and the animation left her face. "That's just cruel."

"Francois. That's enough. You have upset your sister and embarrassed our guests."

Athos laid down his knife and fork. "Thank you for your hospitality, my Lord. If you will excuse us, we need to get an early start in the morning."

"Of course. I will ask the cook to pack you some food for your journey."

"You are very generous." Athos stood, followed by the others. He inclined his head to Josette. "Good night, mademoiselle, Sirs."

Once out of the dining room he heaved a sigh of relief.

"That's one unhappy family," Porthos said. He nudged d'Artagnan. "She took quite a shine to you though."

"That's not funny."

"Oh, it is," Aramis said. "You should have seen your face."

"That's enough, gentlemen," Athos said. "I'm going to the stables to check on the horses. Try not to get into any trouble while I'm gone."

"Not much chance of that," Porthos said. "We're in the middle of no-where. I bet nothin' interestin' ever happens."

Tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**Nowhere to Run**

 **Chapter Two**

It was the shouting that woke Athos. He was immediately alert and half way out of bed, reaching for his breeches, when a piercing scream assaulted his ears. D'Artagnan had also jumped up in alarm and was dressing hurriedly. Athos swore as he fumbled with his buttons then grabbed his sword. In the hallway they encountered Aramis and Porthos, similarly armed, and looking equally disheveled. They ran for the stairs.

A small group of people were gathered outside a bedroom door. One of them was Josette, still in her nightgown and sobbing brokenly. Athos pushed through and paused on the threshold. It was a large, lavishly furnished room, the focal point of which was a huge bed. Lying in the bed was the Baron, covered in blood.

"Aramis," Athos called sharply.

Aramis walked past him without a word and approached the bed.

Athos turned to d'Artagnan. "Take Mademoiselle Josette out of here. She doesn't need to see this."

The young man nodded and, ignoring convention, placed an arm around her shuddering shoulders. "Come away," he said gently. "Let Aramis deal with this."

For a moment she hesitated. "Is he dead?" she whispered. Her chest was heaving as she struggled to control her breathing.

"Leave it to us," d'Artagnan said. He couldn't fail to see the amount of blood which did not bode well for the Baron.

Finally, she nodded. Her eyes and nose were red and tears continued to stream down her face. D'Artagnan led her away talking quietly to her.

Athos watched them walk slowly down the hallway before entering the room. Aramis looked up from checking the Baron's pulse and shook his head.

"He hasn't been dead long," he said. "His body is only just starting to cool."

The cause of death was obvious. The Baron had been stabbed in at least half a dozen places. It had been a brutal attack.

"There's no sign of defensive wounds," Aramis continued. "He was killed as he slept."

Francois pushed past Athos and fell to his knees beside the bed. He reached out and gripped his father's hand before bowing his head.

Athos turned his attention to the other two men who waited just outside the door. One was the Steward, Vayle. He didn't know the other one who was tall and slim, probably in his thirties, with blue eyes and dark blond hair.

"Who found the body?" Athos asked.

"I did. I'm Darcell, the Baron's valet." Darcell was pale and shaken but continued resolutely. "I came to light the fire and lay out the master's clothing. When I opened the curtains and saw…saw all the blood, I called for help." He became even more ashen and Athos gestured to a chair.

"Sit."

Vayle was more composed although he also looked shocked. It was perhaps the first honest emotion he had displayed. Or was it honest? Athos wondered about that. Someone had crept in here during the early hours of the morning and murdered a defenseless man.

Aramis walked over to join him. "I will need warm water and cloths to clean the body. Someone should send for a priest and arrange for a coffin to be delivered."

"Yes, of course," Vayle said. "I should go to the kitchen anyway. My wife will be frightened by all the noise."

"I'll go to the village," Darcell said. He looked more composed now.

"No," Athos said. "No-one leaves. Porthos will go if you give him directions."

Aramis had returned to the bed and laid a hand on Francois shoulder. "My Lord Baron. We need to prepare your father's body."

Francois looked up, a strange mix of emotion on his face. "Who could have done this?"

"We will find out," Athos said.

While Darcell instructed Porthos on the route to the village and Vayle headed to the kitchen, Athos looked around the room. Apart from the disordered bed nothing seemed to have been disturbed. It suggested this wasn't a robbery gone wrong, but what motive could there be to kill the Baron?

Athos liked to think he was a good judge of character. Although the Baron had welcomed them into his home there had been something about him that Athos hadn't liked. Overlaying the obvious sadness which was undoubtedly due to the death of his wife, had been something furtive around the eyes. When they had been talking the Baron had rarely maintained eye contact, his gaze ranging around the room. Athos, who was in many ways a straightforward man, had found that disconcerting. Had the Baron, who appeared outwardly to have been harmless, made an enemy capable of committing this heinous act?

Francois was on his feet now, looking uncertain and not at all like the arrogant young man they had met the night before. Athos approached him.

"May I speak to you, My Lord?"

The change in status must only now have been sinking in, unless of course, Francois was the killer in which case it would have been a deliberate act designed to bring him the title. No-one in the house was beyond suspicion. There was also the possibility that someone from outside the household was responsible.

Francois took a last look toward the bed before nodding. "We'll go downstairs." He led the way to the study where they had first met the Baron. After only a momentary hesitation he sat in the chair behind the desk.

Athos remained standing, his hands clasped behind his back. "Is there a constable in any of the local villages?"

"No."

"Then we will stay to investigate your father's death."

Some of the haughtiness had returned to Francois' face. "There is no need. We can send to the nearest town for assistance."

"I must insist," Athos said. "The key to finding a murderer is to move quickly. You would lose valuable time if you had to wait for an investigator to arrive." He didn't add that they were probably far better equipped to deal with the situation than some provincial law enforcement officer. "There are some obvious avenues of enquiry. I assume that the house is locked up at night?"

"Vayle sees to that. You will have to speak to him."

"I will, and we will also look for any evidence of a break in. I will need to speak to everyone in the household and we will begin a search for the murder weapon."

"Surely you don't suspect anyone here of committing that vile act?"

"It's too early to rule anything out."

"You overstep your authority," Francois said angrily.

"We are members of the King's regiment. It is our duty to investigate crimes against any citizen of France." Athos was implacable. "Do you know if the Baron had any enemies?"

Francois shook his head. "He was well-liked. If anything, he was too soft-hearted." He hadn't brought his temper quite under control but seemed to be resigned to the fact that Athos wasn't going to relent.

"We will make enquiries in the local villages. Tell me about Darcell."

"He's been my father's valet for more than ten years. He's loyal and hardworking. Father never had any complaint about him."

There was a note to Francois' voice that piqued Athos' curiosity. "What was your view of him?"

"He was full of his own self-importance. It didn't make him very popular with the other servants."

"I couldn't help but notice that there is a lack of servants for a house of this size."

Francois flushed. "They live mostly in the villages. We have three girls that come in to clean, two gardeners and a man who does all the repairs. Apart from Vayle and Darcell, we have a cook who lives in, a kitchen maid and a stable boy."

"Vayle mentioned his wife?"

"She is our cook. Her name is Clair. She has been here since they married three years ago."

"And the kitchen maid?"

"Orva. She's the daughter of one of our tenants. Scrawny little thing. I can't imagine her having the strength to kill someone." Francois was becoming more composed as the interview progressed.

"You had the most to gain by your father's death," Athos said bluntly.

The flush returned to Francois' cheeks and he stood up, leaning over the desk. "How dare you accuse me!"

"It wasn't an accusation, My Lord. Simply an observation."

"You are no longer welcome in this house."

"You would impede our investigation? I can send to Paris for formal authorization but to do that would risk a killer escaping justice."

"Get out." Francois' voice had risen to a shout.

Athos bowed. "As you wish. I must insist though that no-one leave the house until they have all been interviewed." He left the room and returned to the Baron's bedroom. Aramis was still there. He'd removed the Baron's night clothes and was bathing his body. The water in the basin was stained deep red. Athos could see the extent of the wounds now. The fatal blow had been to the heart. Whether the other wounds had been inflicted before or after death, he wasn't qualified to say.

It wasn't long before d'Artagnan joined them. "Josette is in the care of Vayle's wife. She is broken-hearted by her father's death."

"That much was clear," Athos said. "Do you believe she could have done this?"

"No." D'Artagnan spoke decisively. "Her emotions were real."

"They could have been the result of remorse," Athos said. "Aramis, is it possible the killer could have been a woman?"

"It's not impossible. The angle of the cuts show that someone stabbed downwards which would generate a lot of force. At this stage I don't think we can rule anyone out."

"D'Artagnan. Can you speak to Vayle? Make sure that he locked the house up last night. Then check the windows and doors for any sign of a forced entry."

"Of course. What are you going to do?"

"Start searching for the murder weapon."

TMTMTM

D'Artagnan found Vayle in the kitchen, sitting at the long table with his head in his hands. He stood up as soon as he became aware that he wasn't alone.

"Can I help you with something?"

"Yes. You are responsible for securing the house at night?"

"Once everyone retires I lock all the doors and check that they windows are closed."

"Did you do that last night?"

"Of course."

"I'd like to take a look around. Will you accompany me? Tell me if anything seems out of place."

D'Artagnan heard a small noise and turned towards a corner of the kitchen. The area was in shadow but he was sure he had heard someone move. He rested his hand on the hilt of his sword before walking forward. As he got closer he could just make out a figure huddled as close to the wall as possible. He realised it was a young girl and that she looked terrified.

"Don't be afraid," he said. "No-one is going to hurt you."

Striking green eyes peered at him through a curtain of greasy brown hair. The girl was stick thin except for her arms which were muscular enough that he guessed she did a lot of fetching and carrying.

"Orva," Vayle said loudly. "What are you doing skulking in there?"

The girl flinched and said nothing. D'Artagnan held out a hand. "My name is d'Artagnan. You're Orva?"

"Yes," she whispered. She relaxed her arms which had been wrapped protectively around her body.

"Will you come out and talk to me?" He could see that she was sitting on a thin mattress and guessed this was where she slept.

Orva looked between him and Vayle who was scowling at her.

"Come on, girl," Vayle said. "Don't keep us waiting."

When Orva crept out Vayle raised a hand to cuff the side of her head. D'Artagnan looked at him severely and shook his head. The hand fell back to Vayle's side.

"You've heard what happened to the Baron?" d'Artagnan asked.

Her eyes were wide as she nodded. "Cook says he was murdered. Who'd do such a thing, Sir?"

"It's not your place to ask questions," Vayle said, earning himself another silent reprimand from d'Artagnan.

"Did you see or hear anything last night?" d'Artagnan asked.

Her gaze slid away before she shook her head. He frowned but felt she was too skittish to press further. He resolved to gain her trust before questioning her again.

"Thank you, Orva. Is there any food prepared?"

"Yes, sir. There's a pot of porridge simmering on the fire and bread, cheese and ham cut and ready to be served."

"Good. Can you lay out the food in the dining room?"

She began to look scared again. "I ain't allowed in the main part of the house, Sir."

"Today is different. We must all do our best to keep the household running. Please prepare a tray for Mademoiselle Josette. She will need wine as well."

"I have the key to the wine cellar," Vayle said, a haughtiness returning to his manner. "And I will deliver the tray."

Orva flinched again. "Yes, Sir. I'll do my best, Sir."

"I'm sure you will." D'Artagnan gave her his most reassuring smile. It faded as he turned to regard Vayle. "We'll look around and then you can deliver Mademoiselle Josette's breakfast."

Vayle inclined his head and led the way out of the kitchen. D'Artagnan looked back and met Orva's gaze. She immediately blushed and ducked her head. He felt sorry for her. She was like a dog that had been beaten too many times by its master; desperate to please while knowing always that her best wouldn't be good enough. He had only met the Cook briefly but hadn't detected any warmth of feeling in the young woman. Orva must have a hard life and he resolved to do what he could to improve it for her.

Tbc


	3. Chapter 3

**Nowhere to Run**

 **Chapter Three**

When Athos stepped out of the main house and looked around he began to fully comprehend the scope of the task. In addition to the chateau there was the stable block, a storage shed and two large barns. That didn't take account of the grounds which were extensive. In front of the house was a small pond on which ducks placidly floated. That would have to be searched as well. He decided to start with the stables as the stable boy might have heard or seen something unusual.

He had met the boy, Montel, the previous evening while checking on the horses. He was a cheerful child no more than eleven or twelve. When Athos entered the stables he was mucking out one of the stalls. His gap-toothed grin and happy demeanor showed Athos that news of the murder had not yet spread this far.

"Mornin', Sir," Montel called. "D'you want the rest of the horses saddled? Monsieur Porthos has already ridden out."

"No, thank you. We are going to be staying for a while." Athos paused to stroke the nose of his horse. "You are looking after them well."

"They're no trouble."

In addition to the Musketeer's horses there were half a dozen other animals, ranging from a delicate mare to a powerfully built stallion. All were kept in good condition and Athos could see that they boy worked hard at his job.

"I was just about to let them out into the paddock for a run," Montel said.

"Before you do that I have some questions for you."

The boy looked curious but not perturbed.

"You sleep in here?" Athos asked.

"Yes. Over there." Montel pointed to a mound of straw covered in blankets.

"Did you hear anything out of the ordinary last night? Or see something perhaps?"

Montel thought for a moment before shaking his head. "Has somethin' happened, Sir?"

Although Athos was loathe to tell the boy, he knew it would become common knowledge before too long. "Your master was murdered last night."

Tears sprang to Montel's eyes and he backed away. His legs collided with a bale of hay and he sat, putting his head in his hands. Athos watched him uneasily. He wasn't used to dealing with violent emotions and had very little experience of comforting children. He wished Aramis were there. He'd know what to say and do.

"There is no reason to be afraid," he said.

The boy looked up, tear tracks visible in the dirt on his face. "Who'd do such a terrible thing?"

"That's what we are going to find out. I need you to search the stables and, if you see anything unusual, come straight to me. Do you understand?" At least this was one occupant of the estate that he didn't have to suspect. There was no way Montel could have applied the force necessary to inflict the brutal wounds on the Baron.

"Yes, sir." Montel's voice was unsteady.

"Did you see much of the Baron?"

"He wasn't much for huntin' and hawkin'. Spent most of his time in the house. Occasionally he'd ride round the estate or visit a neighbor. Even that got less after the Mistress died. The young Lord was often in here. He took a lot of interest in breedin' the horses and he was always out huntin' during the season."

"Was he a good master?"

"He was kind, not like his steward." The colour left the boy's cheeks. "Please don't tell him I said that."

"I won't. You have my word."

"I should get back to the horses," Montel said.

"Yes, of course." Although Athos was reluctant to leave the boy alone he knew that he had little option. There was too much ground to cover to allow for any delay. He left the stables and walked to the closest barn. It was half full of hay bales, stored for the winter. The only windows were small and high up so Athos lit a lamp he found at the entrance and began his search. It was a thankless task. He pushed his way between the bales, examining each one. When he reached the back of the barn he lifted the lantern high so that he could see into the corners. He heard the sound of rats scurrying away but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

The second barn was stacked high with bushels of wheat and barrels and boxes of vegetables and fruit. Athos rummaged through the contents without finding anything. That left the storage shed and the house. With a long-suffering sigh, he continued on his way.

TMTMTM

It took over an hour for Porthos to reach the village of Denat. He had been told it was the largest on the estate and the only one with a church and a priest. He passed a blacksmith's shop from which the sound of iron on iron rang out. From there it was approximately one hundred yards to the start of the village. The houses were single storey and in a good state of repair. The shutters on the windows were open to let in air. Smoke drifted from holes in the thatched rooves. There was a butcher's shop on one side of the street and a baker on the other. The smell of baking reached him and his stomach rumbled to remind him that he hadn't eaten anything.

When he reached the main square he saw an inn on one corner and a small whitewashed church on the other. His arrival had sparked a lot of interest and people were openly staring at him. He beckoned over a man who'd been sitting on a bench smoking a pipe.

"Where'll I find the priest?" he asked. "And, is there a carpenter here?"

"That's the priest's house." The man pointed to a building next to the church. "At this time of day he's probably having his breakfast. You'll find old Gaspard, the carpenter, about half a mile outside the village in that direction." This time he gestured to the east.

"Thank you." Porthos dismounted and walked his horse to the priest's house, tying the reins around a post. He walked up to the door and banged his fist on the wood. The door was opened by a young girl who looked at him fearfully.

"I'm here to see Father Aubert."

She glanced behind her. "He's at breakfast."

"Well, this can't wait."

She stood there indecisively for a moment then stood aside. "Come in, Sir."

He was shown into a small room which contained the stove, a wooden counter and a table with four chairs. Only one of the chairs was occupied by a rotund man wearing a black robe.

"This gentleman is here to see you, Father. He says it's urgent." She gave an awkward curtsey.

"Does he? Well then, my dear, you had better leave us."

She gathered up a shawl and a basket and walked out without any hesitation. Porthos supposed that she had probably never seen a soldier before.

"Sit." Father Aubert smiled at Porthos. "Have you eaten?"

"No."

"Then help yourself. I'll fetch another plate."

There was bread on the table and little pots of preserves. It was hardly a feast but Porthos set to with enthusiasm. The priest poured him a mug of ale before returning to his seat.

"Now, what can I do for one of the King's Musketeers?"

Porthos laid down the bread and wiped his hands on his breeches. "The Baron Berreyer was murdered in his sleep last night."

"God save us." The priest crossed himself.

"I need you to come to the chateau to bless the body and we've got a funeral to arrange."

"Of course. How are his children coping? Mademoiselle Josette is particularly fragile."

"She wasn't doin' so good when I left. It would help her to see a friendly face."

"Give me a few minutes to gather up my things and hitch up my buggy and we can be on our way."

"We need to make a stop at the carpenter's place to arrange for a coffin."

Father Aubert nodded. "Finish your breakfast. I won't be long."

TMTMTM

Knowing that he would need help to search the house, Athos went to find Aramis and d'Artagnan. Aramis was still in the Baron's bedchamber, down on his knees and fingering his rosary. The Baron's body had been covered with a clean sheet. The blood-stained bed linen had been removed leaving no visible signs of the frenetic attack. Athos cleared his throat and waited. When Aramis stood up his expression was serene as was so often the case when he came from prayers. Athos wished he could find the same peace but his solace came from the bottom of a bottle of wine.

Aramis walked over to join him.

"How goes the search for the murder weapon?" Aramis asked.

"Nothing so far."

"I have checked this room but whoever did this took the knife with them when they left."

"Are you able to hazard a guess as to what we are looking for?"

"It was large bladed, not like the knives that we all carry."

"A kitchen knife?"

"That is a possibility. Has anyone spoken to the cook?"

"She was with the daughter earlier but might have returned to the kitchen by now."

"I will go and see. I need a respite from this room of death."

They parted in the hallway and Athos resumed his quest to find d'Artagnan. The young man was standing in the entrance hall, looking thoughtful.

"Anything?" Athos asked.

"I've been round the whole house and there's no sign of any forced entry. Vayle is adamant that he locked all the doors before he went to bed so it seems unlikely that anyone from outside committed the murder."

"That narrows down our pool of suspects."

"What motive would anyone have? The Baron seemed decent enough."

"It is too soon to say. I need your help with another task. The house must be searched for the murder weapon. You start with the third floor and I will start here. Be thorough. Aramis says we are looking for a large knife. It must still be in or close to the house. If Aramis is correct that the murder happened not long before the body was found there wouldn't have been time to get it any distance away."

"What about the rooms belonging to Francois and Josette?"

"Every room is to be searched. For now, everyone in this house is a suspect."

"That'll go down well," d'Artagnan murmured.

"The new Baron has already tried to discharge us but we have a duty to perform and I'm not leaving until we have the murderer in custody."

"It will be no easy task."

"Upholding the law seldom is."

TMTMTM

Aramis reached the kitchen. He had ascertained that the cook was married to Vayle so he was expecting to see a middle-aged woman. In that he was mistaken. She was young; far younger than he would have expected given the level of responsibility. Blonde curls had escaped from her lace cap and framed a pretty face.

"Madame Vayle. I am Aramis. May I ask you some questions?"

"I'm busy." Her abrupt manner contrasted sharply with her pleasant looks.

"I won't take up much of your time."

"We'll have to talk while I work. The Baron," her voice hitched. "The Baron will expect a meal to be on the table at twelve."

"I don't think anyone will mind if things don't run as scheduled today."

"That's well and good for you to say." She walked over to the long table which took up the middle of the kitchen. A bowl of vegetables waited there. "The kitchen girl should be doing this but the lazy slut's disappeared."

"Oh?"

"She's probably off in a corner crying."

Aramis raised an eyebrow at the callous tone. "Shouldn't you go and look for her?"

"She's not worth the effort." She rolled up her sleeves and reached into the bowl for a potato.

Aramis noticed that her hands were red and rough, very unlike the smooth skin of her face and neck. "You will be aware that the Baron was stabbed. The wounds suggest it was a large knife. Is anything missing from the kitchen?"

"Not that I've noticed."

Her hands were shaking and she nicked her finger with the paring knife. A drop of blood appeared on her skin and she looked at it in bemusement before starting to cry. Aramis crossed the distance between them, unsurprised that so minor an injury could have been sufficient to break the dam. He put his arm around her shoulders and held her while she sobbed. After a few minutes she pulled away, keeping her face averted.

"There is no shame in showing your grief, Madame," Aramis said.

"Leave me alone."

"As you wish. Shall I send your husband to you?"

"No," she said with sudden violence.

Aramis acknowledged her wishes although he was a little surprised. Most women, when unhappy, would welcome the attention of their husband. Not that Vayle had seemed particularly caring. But that had been his professional persona so perhaps it wasn't surprising. He wondered what could have attracted a young woman like her to marry a man so much older. It wasn't his business though so he soon put the thought from his mind.

As he left the kitchen it occurred to him that whoever had done the killing would have been spattered with blood. It wasn't just a knife they were looking for. It was also blood-stained clothing. He quickened his steps. It was time to talk to Athos.

Tbc


	4. Chapter 4

**Nowhere to Run**

 **Chapter Four**

Athos knocked on the door and waited. When it opened he acknowledged Darcell and asked to see the Baron. Francois was dressing. An immaculate white shirt edged with lace was paired with dark silk breeches. A matching silk doublet lay neatly on the bed.

"What do you want?" Francois asked in a hostile tone.

"I'm sorry to disturb you. We are conducting a search of the house." Athos wasn't in the least sorry but he knew how to handle prickly noblemen.

"You want to search my room?" Colour rose in Francois' cheeks. "This is outrageous."

Athos regarded him, quite undisturbed by the hostility. "I would remind you that we are the King's representatives. Your cooperation would be appreciated."

Faced with Athos' implacable stare, Francois had little option other than to acquiesce. "You will allow me a few minutes to finish dressing?"

"Of course."

Darcell helped Francois into his doublet and began to fasten the buttons. It brought back unwelcome memories to Athos of a time when he had relied on a valet and servants to cater to his every whim.

"I trust my sister is exempt from this uncivilized intrusion."

"All the rooms must be searched."

"You have no manners. I will lodge a complaint with your Captain."

"As you wish."

Francois turned his frustration onto Darcell. "Get a move on you clumsy oaf. Then find me some breakfast. Bring it to the study."

Darcell finished buttoning up the Baron's doublet, bowed and hastily left the room.

"If you would excuse me," Athos said, indicating that Francois should also leave.

"You will leave my room as you found it," Francois snapped irritably.

Athos ignored the order and opened the door. "Porthos and the priest should be back soon. I'm sure you have much to arrange."

The search proved to be as fruitless as those that preceded it. All Athos concluded was that the young Baron had an expensive taste in clothes and weapons. A beautiful pair of ornate pistols lay in a satin lined box on his dresser and all his doublets and robes were made of the finest materials.

He took a last look around and left, running into Aramis in the hallway. "How did it go with the cook?"

"Unproductive. She claims nothing is missing but made no effort to check. Then she became upset and asked me to leave."

"It appears the Baron was well liked by his staff if they are that upset by his passing. There was something about him, though." Athos shook his head, unable to articulate his feelings of unease.

"We need to speak in detail with everyone. Find out more about the household. I sense that there are secrets here."

"You may be right. Has Porthos returned yet?"

"No."

"A pity. A search needs to be made of Mademoiselle Josette's room, and it would be easier if she were with the priest when that happens."

"I'm sure he won't be long delayed."

Footsteps on the stairs leading from the upper level drew their attention.

When d'Artagnan joined them, he shook his head. "Nothing."

"There is one more thing I thought of," Aramis said. "Whoever killed the Baron would have his blood on their clothes."

"They could have burned them," d'Artagnan suggested.

"None of the fires were lit. The only place there would have been a fire is the stove in the kitchen."

"No-one could have used that without Orva seeing them," d'Artagnan said.

"Orva?" Athos asked.

"The kitchen maid. She sleeps in there."

"She seems to have disappeared," Aramis said. "At least that's what Madame Vayle told me. She wasn't very complimentary in her description of the girl."

"Vayle wasn't kind to her either. I'm going to see if I can find her. I have a suspicion she might know something."

"Very well. We'll await Porthos' return," Athos said.

They parted by the front door and Aramis wandered into the dining room. "I'm hungry."

A cold repast had been laid out. He picked up a plate and helped himself to chicken, ham and bread. Athos followed his example and they sat at the table to eat.

"Who would have the greatest motive for killing the Baron?" Aramis asked rhetorically. "His son, obviously. They seemed to have an uneasy relationship if that little display before dinner last night is any indication."

"He is the most obvious suspect, but why kill him when the house is full of soldiers? No, it doesn't feel right. The pattern of the wounds suggested great anger, not a cold-blooded killing."

"It's unlikely to have been the daughter, which leaves us with the household staff, all of whom seem genuinely upset that he's dead. Are we sure no-one could have entered the house undetected?"

"The only way in would have been by way of a key and I don't imagine anyone outside of the chateau would have had one." Athos spread butter on a slice of bread and took a bite. After swallowing he continued. "I would like you to look at the estate books. The Baron should have been making a comfortable living yet his lack of staff suggests otherwise. Speak to Vayle, find out where the money has gone."

"Ah, my friend, you give me all the interesting tasks," Aramis said glumly.

Athos knew Aramis had been well educated and that he was comfortable with numbers, even if he didn't enjoy pouring over ledgers. "Needs must. If we can find the motive we will find our murderer."

"What are you going to do?"

"Speak to all our suspects, and make myself even more unpopular with the new Baron."

"What of Porthos and d'Artagnan?"

"There are maids and gardeners who live in the villages. I'd like their perspective on the household. The nobility often talks in front of servants who are all but invisible to them. We might learn something useful."

"Well, I had better find our friendly steward and ask about the books." Aramis stood up. "I will let you know what I discover."

TMTMTM

D'Artagnan was on a quest. He checked in the kitchen to see if Orva had returned. The cook told him in scathing terms that the girl was still missing and that he should send her back as soon as he found her. There had been no sign of her during their search of the house and surely Athos would have mentioned seeing her in the stables or barns, so d'Artagnan turned his attention to the grounds.

He started round the back of the chateau. There was a large lawn interspersed with flowerbeds. The flowers were dying back now that autumn had come but the beds were free from weeds and the grass was well tended. There was a stone wall bordering the grounds, beyond which he could see a dense grove of trees. It seemed unlikely that Orva would have ventured that far and he felt confident that she must have a hiding place closer to the house.

To the side of the house was an area surrounded by high box hedges. He walked in among them and found them to be laid out in an intricate design. There were benches set at intervals and no doubt this was a nice place to escape the suffocating summer heat as there was plenty of shade. He had almost given up when he heard a scuffling sound from the far side of one of the hedges.

"Orva?" he called. "It's alright. I just want to talk to you." He walked around the corner and found the girl with her knees drawn up and her arms wrapped around them. She looked at him fearfully. He hunkered down so as not to seem so intimidating. "You remember me?"

She nodded hesitantly.

"Why did you run away?"

"I was scared."

"There's nothing to be afraid of. My friends and I will look after you."

"You can't protect me from Cook." Tears sprang to her eyes. "She'll beat me black and blue for this. But, I couldn't stay there, Sir. I just couldn't."

"I'll make sure she doesn't lay a hand on you. Can you tell me what frightened you?"

She looked down and shook her head.

"Was the Baron kind to you?"

"I didn't see much of him, being as I was always in the kitchen. His orders came through Monsieur Vayle."

"Do you have family here?"

"Mother, father and two younger brothers. They live in Denat. I don't get to see them much but I send what money I can. We're a poor family, Sir. Getting this job helps them to buy food."

"I'm sure they're very grateful." The life of a peasant was a hard one. They didn't own the land they tended and were heavily taxed for the privilege of living on the estate. The work was hard and many barely grew enough food to see them through the winter. He wondered what sort of landlord the Baron had been. From what he'd seen of Francois their lot in life was about to get worse. "You should return to the kitchen. Cook is preparing lunch and needs your help." He held out a hand which she took and he noticed that she was shaking. "It's normal to be upset when someone dies, especially if it is a violent death. I'll explain on your behalf. Trust me." He helped her to her feet and walked with her back to the house.

When they reached the kitchen Madame Vayle looked at them angrily. "Where have you been? I've been working my fingers to the bone while you've been off moping somewhere. Come here."

Orva shrank back behind d'Artagnan.

"Show some pity. She's young and she's had a fright. You will find she responds better to kindness than to chastisement."

"Who are you to come in here and tell me how to run my kitchen?"

"I meant no offence, Madame, but I won't see Orva punished for seeking shelter from the terrible events of this morning."

"I don't have time to argue with you. Get over to the fire, girl, and turn the spit or the meat will be ruined."

Staying as far away as she could from the irate woman Orva did as she was told. D'Artagnan watched her for a moment before turning back to confront the cook.

"If I hear that she has been abused in any way I will petition the Baron to have you removed from your post."

"You can't do that!"

"Just watch me." It occurred to him that her reaction to the situation had been stronger than it warranted. Equally, Orva's fear had seemed extreme. There was something else going on here and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

TMTMTM

Porthos was relieved to be back at the chateau. They had spoken to the carpenter and arranged for a coffin to be delivered before nightfall. He had then had to keep pace with the priest's buggy which had seemed to crawl along at barely above walking speed. Vayle came out to meet them and escorted the priest to the Baron's study. Porthos, ignored by the steward, set out to locate his friends. He found Athos sitting in the dining room. Despite having breakfasted at the priest's house Porthos was still hungery so he loaded a plate with cold meat and carried it over to the table.

"Find anythin'?" Porthos asked between mouthfuls.

"No."

"What happens now?"

"You and d'Artagnan go to question the staff who live in the villages. You can get a list from Vayle. I want to know everything there is to know about this family. Aramis is going through the books. I still have Josette's room to search and then I will start the interviews. There's one place we haven't looked at yet and perhaps you and d'Artagnan could do so before you leave. It's the small pond close to the stables. I doubt if it is very deep but it won't be comfortable wading around in it."

"A little water won't hurt us and it's turnin' into a nice day again so it won't be cold."

"I assume you brought the priest back with you."

"Yes. Father Aubert. He's a decent sort. He was very worried about the daughter. Apparently, she took her mother's death hard and now to lose her father…well, he's concerned for her state of mind."

"That's understandable. I'm hoping he will smooth the way for me to search her room."

"He told me some things about the family. Seems the Baron left the running of the estate to his steward and Francois wasn't happy about it. He wanted more control over the purse strings. There were often arguments between father and son and that kind of gossip spreads quickly."

"Our new Baron wasn't exactly left penniless. You should see his wardrobe. Most of it must have come from Paris." Athos sighed. "It's a tangle and we need to unravel it to find the killer." He stood up. "Where's the priest now?"

"With the Baron."

"Then I must go and impose myself on him once again. He resents our involvement although I don't think he will actively impede our investigation."

Porthos shoved a last slice of chicken into his mouth and joined Athos by the doorway. "I'll track down d'Artagnan and we'll take a look at that pond."

Tbc


	5. Chapter 5

**Nowhere to Run**

 **Chapter Five**

D'Artagnan dipped a toe into the water before hastily pulling his foot back. "It's cold," he complained.

Porthos, who was sitting on the ground pulling his boots off, grinned. "Don't make such a fuss. You've bathed in colder water than this."

That was true so d'Artagnan didn't press the point. Instead he peered below the surface. "How deep d'you think it is?"

"Hopefully not too deep." Porthos stood up and surveyed the pond.

It was roughly oval in shape. The widest point was about ten feet across and in length it was no more than fifteen feet. The ducks that had been swimming on it had departed with aggrieved quacks when the two Musketeers arrived.

"You take the far end," Porthos said. "I'll start here." He walked into the water and drew in a shocked gasp of air at the temperature. His feet began to sink into the mud at the bottom of the pond. He bent down to try and see if anything lay in the mud but he had stirred up too much silt and the view was cloudy. As he waded deeper he began to feel around with his foot.

They had almost met in the middle and the water was up to their thighs when d'Artagnan gave a startled cry.

"What's wrong?" Porthos asked, immediately concerned.

"I think I just cut my foot." He bent down and plunged his arm under the water. After feeling around for a few moments his hand brushed against something solid. He closed his fingers around it and brought it to the surface. Sunlight glinted off metal as his gaze met that of Porthos. He was holding a ten-inch heavy kitchen knife. "I think we just found the murder weapon."

When they reached dry land d'Artagnan examined his foot. There was a cut along the outer side which was still bleeding.

"Let's get back to the house and get that cleaned and bandaged," Porthos said.

They gathered up their boots and walked across the soft grass. As they reached the front door Aramis came out. He looked at them expectantly and an eyebrow rose when d'Artagnan held up the knife.

"D'Artagnan found it in the pond," Porthos said. "He's also got a cut on his foot."

"Come inside." Aramis ushered them into the parlour and examined d'Artagnan's foot. "I'll need warm water and my saddlebags," he said.

Blood continued to drip down onto the cream coloured rug. D'Artagnan looked at it. "The Baron isn't going to be happy about this."

Aramis pulled out a clean handkerchief and wadded it up. "Press this against the wound."

While d'Artagnan followed his instructions, he picked up the knife and studied it. "This is a kitchen knife," he said. "The cook told me none were missing."

"She must have been mistaken."

"Either that or she was lying to me. I'll go and talk to her again once we have seen to your injury."

When Porthos returned with the requested items Aramis cleaned the cut, applied cream to it and then wrapped a bandage around d'Artagnan's foot.

"How's it comin' with the ledgers?" Porthos asked.

"They were giving me a headache," Aramis admitted. "I'm no expert but there seem to be some anomalies. They show that the estate was barely making a profit which is very hard to believe."

"Someone skimmin' money?"

"It looks like it."

"Could that be a motive?" d'Artagnan asked as he put his boots back on. "Maybe the Baron found out and confronted the culprit."

"So far as I can tell, Vayle was responsible for keeping the books in order. If anyone can explain the missing money it would be him. He and his wife have a good living here so if the Baron had threatened to throw them out that would certainly be a motive."

"I didn't detect any friction between them when we arrived," d'Artagnan said. "Surely if Vayle had been stealing he would have been dismissed immediately."

"Perhaps the Baron was keeping him on until he found a replacement," Aramis said thoughtfully. "It would cause great hardship to the household if the steward and the cook were both to be let go."

"Somethin' to ask them about," Porthos said. "Right, d'Artagnan and I have to go and speak to the staff who don't live in. Will you be alright to ride?"

"Perfectly fit," d'Artagnan replied. "Thanks, Aramis."

They left the knife in Aramis' care and he sat for a while trying to decide his best approach. Athos was with the Baron and the priest and he didn't think this could wait until their leader emerged. He made up his mind and headed for the study.

TMTMTM

"No."

Athos held onto his temper with an effort. They had been going round in circles for the last fifteen minutes and he couldn't help feeling that time wasn't on their side. "My Lord Baron, I mean no disrespect to your sister but we have searched every other room and I cannot agree to exempt her simply because she is a woman."

"Surely you can see that she is devastated by our father's death. Besides, what motive would she have to kill him?"

"As to motive, I can't say, but the knife must be secreted somewhere."

"Surely it's more likely the culprit disposed of it in the grounds."

"That is a possibility we are investigating."

There was a sharp knock at the door and the Baron looked at it in irritation. "Come in."

Aramis opened the door but didn't enter the room. "Athos. If I might borrow you for a minute?"

"Excuse me." Athos followed Aramis out into the hallway. "What have you got?"

"This." Aramis produced the knife. "D'Artagnan and Porthos found it in the pond."

"That was good work. Have you spoken to the cook about it?"

"Not yet. I wanted to discuss it with you first. It might be better to keep the discovery secret until the individual interviews. Everyone will be nervous and one of them might slip up when confronted with the murder weapon."

"We will have to ensure that they don't speak to one another," Athos said thoughtfully. "If one were to tell the others about the knife we will lose the shock value."

"That can be arranged. I will put it in my room for now."

Athos returned to the study. "We are out of time. Father, if you could persuade Mademoiselle Josette to leave her room I can search it without her being aware. That way we don't add to her distress."

"I forbid it," the Baron said.

"I am afraid you have no option. The room will be searched one way or another. I am simply proposing a solution which will save your sister from further unpleasantness." Athos turned to the priest. "Father?"

The priest looked uneasily at the Baron but must have sensed Athos' resolve. "I will suggest a walk in the garden. Fresh air works wonders on a person's mood. Leave it to me." He inclined his head to the Baron and left the room.

Athos ignored the waves of anger pouring off the Baron and calmly set out the next stage of the investigation. "Once I have checked your sister's room I want to start interviewing everyone individually. I trust you have no objection."

"Would it matter if I did?"

"Not really. I must consult with Aramis about any findings in the ledgers."

Colour rose in the Baron's cheeks. "You go too far. My family's business is no concern of yours."

"It is if it can provide a motive. Find the motive, My Lord, and we find the culprit. I would like to start my interviews with Vayle, then his wife. We will speak later." Athos bowed and left the Baron seething behind him.

TMTMTM

The search of Josette's room had yielded nothing of value, which didn't really surprise him. Of all the suspects she seemed the least likely candidate. Athos chose a small sitting room at the rear of the house for the interviews. He looked briefly out the window and saw that the sun was shining and that he had a beautiful view of the trees behind the house which were now changing colour from green to orange and red. Had things been different he would have been riding to his next destination through perfect weather and with the land dressed in the spectacular hues of autumn. With a sigh he tore himself away from the view and sat down.

Having spoken with Aramis he now knew that there were problems with the books which Vayle would have to answer to. He retrieved the knife and put it in a drawer in the small desk he was using. He asked Aramis to accompany him to take notes of the evidence.

When Vayle walked in he looked nervously at the Musketeers. They both regarded him somberly.

"Have a seat," Athos said.

Aramis dipped the pen in the inkwell and prepared to write.

"How long have you been the Baron's steward?" Athos asked.

"Just a little over two years."

"What happened to his previous steward?"

"He was dismissed but the Baron never told me why."

"You have worked as a steward before?"

"Yes. I can show you my references if you'd like," Vayle said with a sudden spurt of anger.

Athos narrowed his eyes. "Maybe later. How long have you and your wife been married?"

"What's that got to do with the Baron's murder?" Vayle's animosity grew stronger.

"Answer the question."

"Three and a half years."

"Do you enjoy working here?"

"It's a good post. The old Baron was a decent master."

"What about his son? Will he be a decent master?"

Vayle looked away and chewed his bottom lip. "It'll be different," he eventually said.

"Francois strikes me as a man with a short temper."

"He can be volatile at times but I'm not saying anything against him."

"Probably wise as he now holds your livelihood in the palm of his hand. Now Aramis, as you know, has looked at the ledgers. I'll let him tell you what he discovered."

Aramis laid down the pen and leaned forward. "There are certain…discrepancies. They don't occur on anything like a regular basis but occasionally there are duplicate entries for the same purchase. At other times there appear to be gaps where I would expect to see income from the sales of surplus produce."

"I can assure you that there are no irregularities."

"How then do you explain my findings?"

"I must have made a mistake," Vayle mumbled.

"How often did the Baron check the books?" Athos asked.

"Rarely after his wife died. He left the running of the estate to me."

"That can't have pleased his son."

"Master Francois didn't mind. He was more concerned with hunting and fishing."

"I find that hard to believe," Athos said. "Normally if a noble abdicates his responsibilities they fall to the eldest son."

"I can't answer to that. I'm telling you the truth."

Athos left that line of enquiry alone for a minute. "Where were you when Darcell raised the alarm this morning?"

"I was in my room getting dressed."

'And, your wife?"

"She'd already gone down to the kitchen to prepare breakfast."

"How long had she been gone?"

"I can't say. When I woke up she had already left."

"That leaves you without an alibi," Athos said mildly. "We only have your word for the fact that you were in your room all night."

"What reason would I have to kill the Baron?" Vayle asked heatedly. "Like I said we have a good life here and there's no guarantee the new Baron won't want to appoint his own steward."

"I think there is every possibility that he will. You see, I think you were doctoring the books and that Francois knew. He has very expensive tastes in clothing, weapons and horses and Aramis tells me he only received a modest allowance from his father. I believe you were stealing money to give to him in return for his silence."

"Silence? Silence about what?"

"He discovered your little scheme and, knowing that you held the purse strings, he was blackmailing you."

"You have no proof of that."

"The inference is clear and I'm sure a jury wouldn't have any problem believing it."

Vayle sagged in his chair. "We couldn't afford to be cast off without a reference. You must understand," he begged. "I wasn't doing any harm."

"You were stealing from your master," Aramis said.

"I didn't keep much of it and the young master was only taking what would be rightfully his once his father died."

"You almost brought the estate to the edge of ruin," Athos said severely. "Did the Baron find out? Is that why he was killed?"

Vayle straightened up and leaned forward, his face a mask of misery. "He knew nothing about it. I swear to you that I didn't kill him."

"We found the murder weapon," Athos said, pulling open the drawer and getting out the knife. He laid it on the desk between them.

"Where was it?" Vayle looked a little pale.

"I think we'll keep that piece of information to ourselves for now. Did you take it from the kitchen last night? Or maybe it was early this morning."

"No."

"Very well. Say nothing about the discovery of the knife to anyone and wait in the dining room until we send for you again."

Vayle stood up and Athos could see that he was trembling. The interview had given him much to think about. There was a potential motive but he hadn't detected any animosity between him and the Baron when they arrived. Perhaps it was preemptive action knowing that the Baron would find the holes in the accounts at some stage. Vayle hadn't shown any particular emotion when confronted by the knife either. Despite that he couldn't be ruled out as a suspect.

Once Vayle had left the room Athos turned to Aramis. "I think we will speak to his wife next."

Tbc


	6. Chapter 6

I can only apologise for the long delay in posting this chapter. I returned to work at the start of October. That, coupled with my medication, proved to be more exhausting than expected. However, I am committed to finishing this story.

 **Nowhere to Run**

 **Chapter Six**

"Come in, Madame Vayle." Athos turned away from his contemplation of the garden when he heard a tentative knock on the study door. This was his first meeting with the cook and, like Aramis, he was surprised to find she was much younger than her husband. However, there were red rims around her eyes and she looked haggard. "Please sit down."

She perched on the edge of the chair, her fingers tightly interlocked, and looked from Athos to Aramis and back again. Her lips were set in a hard line and her shoulders were rigid.

"I would like to ask you a few questions," Athos said. "There is nothing to fear."

She swallowed and gave a brief nod of her head.

"At what time did you rise this morning?"

"At my usual time, an hour before dawn. The master liked an early breakfast."

"And your husband?"

"He was still asleep when I left."

"What about the kitchen maid?" Athos glanced at Aramis having forgotten the girl's name.

"Orva," Aramis said

"She was already up and preparing the porridge."

"Did you see anyone else on your way to the kitchen?"

"No."

"And you saw and heard nothing unusual?" Aramis asked.

"Nothing."

Athos frowned. Her voice sounded strained and unnatural, possibly due to her apprehension but it could also be because she was lying. He opened the desk drawer and picked up the knife which he laid in front of him. She recoiled, a look of abject terror further marring her beauty.

"You recognise this?" Athos asked.

"Yes."

Her voice was so low that he had to strain to hear her.

"It is one of your kitchen knives," Aramis said. "It is also the murder weapon."

"Where did you find it?"

"In the pond. I asked you earlier if any of the knives were missing and you said all were accounted for. How do you explain that?" Aramis asked.

"I was upset and not thinking clearly. The Baron's death was a terrible thing and Mademoiselle Josette was so upset when I was sent to comfort her. I misspoke. Is that a crime?" she asked with a touch of belligerence.

"Not of itself but the question arises as to who might have taken it and when." Athos leaned forward, his posture intimidating. "I understand that Orva sleeps in the kitchen. Surely she would have seen if anyone had stolen it."

"Have you spoken to her?"

"Not yet. She seems skittish according to d'Artagnan."

"She's afraid of her own shadow," Clair said dismissively. "And, once she's asleep it's almost impossible to wake her. Anyone could have taken the knife without being seen."

"That is a pity," Athos said. He put the knife away again. "Thank you for your time, Madame. You will keep the details of this interview to yourself and I must ask you to remain inside the house."

She stood, wavered and gripped the edge of the desk for balance. It took only seconds for her to regain her composure and leave the room. Athos relaxed into his chair and looked after her thoughtfully.

"She's lying about something," Aramis said.

"Yes."

"Should we speak to the kitchen maid?"

"I think we'll leave that to d'Artagnan. It sounds like he had made a connection with her. She would probably be too scared to speak to us. No, I think we'll talk to the valet next. Can you find him?"

Aramis stood up and stretched his back. "I won't be long."

Athos gathered up the sheets of paper on which Aramis had written a summary of the interviews. They had uncovered a potential motive with the steward but there was no obvious motive for his wife to kill the Baron. Were they in league? Had Vayle told his wife that the Baron had discovered his fraud? She would have as much to lose as he if they were turned out. She could have taken the knife and given it to him, leaving him to do the deed. He shook his head. It didn't feel right. The killing had been frenzied, not cold and deliberate. He ran a hand over his eyes, frustrated by his lack of progress. Someone in the household was the murderer but he was no closer to unmasking them than he had been first thing that morning.

TMTMTM

Porthos and d'Artagnan returned just as Athos was finishing up with Darcell. All he'd been able to uncover was that the Baron was a good master who treated his staff well. Darcell was less enthused about serving the new Baron who was known to be quick tempered and not averse to using his whip if something displeased him. They went carefully through the events of the morning, conscious of the fact that the valet had no alibi. Yet, his story had rung true.

The four Musketeers reconvened in the dining room. Athos rummaged in one of the cabinets and found, much to his satisfaction, a couple of bottles of wine and some glasses. Once they were settled he asked what, if anything, they had discovered in the village.

"Seems the Baron and his son were known for bein' a bit handy, if you know what I mean," Porthos said.

"Francois was always known for groping the girls," d'Artagnan added. "But, he never went too far. Then, after the Baroness died, the Baron took to touching them inappropriately. It was a hard job getting that admission out of them. Working at the chateau is considered an honor and none of them want to be dismissed."

"Did he ever go any further than that?" Aramis asked with a dangerous edge to his tone.

"Not that we could tell. They just organized their duties so that they avoided both father and son as much as they could. It's one of the reasons they didn't want to live in so they were quite happy when the staff was downsized and they were allowed to return home in the evenings." D'Artagnan looked perturbed. "It isn't right."

"No, it isn't," Athos said. He knew only too well the liberties taken by nobles among their staff and it was another thing that disgusted him about his own class.

"I think we need to speak to Madame Vayle again," Aramis said thoughtfully. "She is an attractive woman who could well have been subject to unwanted attention."

"In front of her husband?" Porthos asked.

"I agree it isn't likely but it's a lead worth following," Athos said. "D'Artagnan, can you talk to the kitchen maid again? You seem to think she knows more than she's saying."

"I can try. She hasn't been well treated by the Vayles so she's terrified of speaking out of turn."

"You have the best chance of getting through to her. Aramis, you speak to Madame Vayle. Make it less formal than her last interview. See if you can get behind that shell she had built up. Get her to trust you."

"You have a high estimation of my charms," Aramis said with a smile.

"Well, you've had plenty of practice," Athos said dryly.

"What are you goin' to do?" Porthos asked.

"It's time I had another sit down with our new Baron. He, after all, has the most obvious motive of all. Porthos can stay. It wouldn't hurt to display a little intimidation. Right, gentlemen, you all have your missions. We will meet up later to discuss what we have discovered." Athos took a deep breath before embarking on what was sure to be a disagreeable discussion with Francois, Baron Berreyer.

Tbc


	7. Chapter 7

**Nowhere to Run**

 **Chapter Seven**

To be summoned to his own study was the height of insolence yet the Baron had formed a reluctant admiration for Athos' unwavering determination. He hesitated just inside the doorway when he saw Porthos sitting off to the side. The large man unnerved him as was undoubtedly the intent. He sat before being invited to do so and fixed his haughtiest glare on Athos. The Musketeer returned the look with equanimity.

"Have you made any progress?" the Baron asked, seizing the initiative.

"We have found the murder weapon and a couple of potential motives." Athos gestured at a knife which lay in the centre of the desk.

Francois picked it up and turned it over in his hands. There was no sign of his father's blood. "Where was it?"

"At the bottom of the pond."

He could see that Athos was watching closely for any reaction. "You said you have uncovered a motive."

"Several, as it happens." Athos pulled a small pile of papers towards him and leafed through them. He pulled out a sheet and scanned it. "When did you find out that Vayle was defrauding your father?" he asked without looking up.

The Baron's stomach lurched. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Chilly green eyes met his own unsettled gaze. "Vayle admitted everything. He told us that you had discovered his deceit and had demanded payment for your silence. It seems plausible since you appear to be living outside your means."

"The allegation is ridiculous. Clearly he was lying."

"He seemed sincere to me."

"Are you going to take my word or that of a servant?"

"In this case I am inclined to believe what he had to tell me."

Francois flushed with annoyance. That Vayle's story was true didn't make it any less of an insult to be disbelieved by a common soldier. "Then there is clearly nothing I can say to change your mind."

"There isn't. Of all the people in this house you still have the strongest motive for wanting your father dead."

The Baron stood and slammed his palms down on the desk. "I loved my father. I know you have no reason to believe me but it's true. We didn't always see eye to eye, that's true. He neglected the estate and had grown distant since my mother died. None of that provides a motive for murder. You're looking in the wrong place."

"Sit down." Although Athos didn't raise his voice it still held the ring of command.

"I won't listen to any more of your baseless accusations."

"You heard what Athos said." Porthos' voice was low and full of menace.

It was beneath his dignity to argue with these men so Francois sat down. "So Vayle and I are suspects. Is anyone else on your list?" he asked sarcastically.

"That depends upon how reliable our information is. Is it true that you and your father had a habit of accosting the female servants?"

The accusation stung. He and his father had done no more than most of the nobility and should not be censured for it. "Clearly you have no idea of the way an upper-class household works."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Porthos said.

"I know that you consider your staff to be your property, however misguided that might be," Athos said.

There was a clear undertone but Francois couldn't work out what was causing it. "The girls look on it as an honour to be singled out by their master. Besides, what harm is there in a quick kiss and fondle?"

"I'm sure this will come as a surprise but not every girl welcomes the attention," Athos said drily.

"Apart from the village girls there is only one woman working her and she is married to my steward. I can assure you that both my father and I respected that."

"Madame Vayle is a very attractive young woman. Are you saying you were never tempted?"

"Never. Now I find this line of questioning distasteful."

"I bet you do," Porthos murmured. A quick glare from Athos caused him to shut his mouth.

"Very well," Athos said. "We will leave it there. I would like to speak to your sister. She can have the priest accompany her if it will make her feel more comfortable."

"This is barbaric. She has just been through the trauma of seeing our father's dead body and now you want to question her! I protest most strongly."

"Your protest is noted. However, I will finish my enquiries."

"Can't you at least wait until tomorrow?"

"I regret the necessity but I will speak with her today."

"Then I will see if she is in a fit state to endure your interrogation," Francois said angrily.

"She will be gently treated. It is not my wish to distress her more than is already the case."

"Fine words, Musketeer." The Baron stood up. "If I find you have upset her I will see you cashiered."

"Duly noted." If the threat had intimidated Athos he certainly didn't show it.

Relieved that the interview was at an end Francois left the room, only barely controlling the somewhat childish impulse to slam the door behind him.

TMTMTM

Aramis found Clair Vayle alone in the kitchen. She was staring down at a haunch of beef but he had the feeling she wasn't seeing what was in front of her eyes. He cleared his throat to attract her attention. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"What do you want? Haven't you asked me enough questions?" Now that her train of thought had been broken she seemed to realise where she was. She lifted up the large piece of meat and put it in a pan. Carrot, turnip and onion followed before she sprinkled the dish with a little salt and added some herbs.

"I wanted to assure myself of your welfare." Aramis walked forward and picked up the pan. "In the oven?"

"Yes. Why do you care about me?" Clair washed and dried her hands before pulling a large bowl towards her.

"I don't like to see any woman upset."

Silence fell between them as she gathered flour, sugar, eggs and butter. "The Baron likes cake in the afternoon." She took an uneven breath. "At least he did." She stood looking forlorn.

"Come and sit down," Aramis suggested. "It will take time to adjust to the new regime."

She slumped down onto a stool and he could see that she was trembling.

"Porthos and d'Artagnan spoke to the girls who come in to clean," he said.

"What has that to do with me?"

"They said that the Baron and his son sometimes…took advantage of their position."

She rose unsteadily to her feet. "What are you suggesting?"

"It is merely an observation."

"I'm a respectable married woman," she said heatedly. "Do you really think I would permit anyone to take liberties?" Her cheeks were red but then the colour drained out of them and she swayed to the side.

Aramis moved swiftly to steady her. "I meant no offence." He guided her back to the stool. "Forgive me."

She looked up at him. He scanned her features for the righteous anger that should have accompanied her words. Instead he found only fear. It was just another layer to the mystery surrounding this house.

"Can I fetch you some water?" he asked, backing away.

"I just want to be left alone." It was a plaintive plea and one which he could understand.

"Very well, but if you need someone to talk to come and find me. You will find that I am a very good listener."

"I'm sure my husband wouldn't approve." She had gained a little of her composure. "I would thank you not to make your suggestions to him. He would be as offended as I am."

"I understand. He will have great care for your honour." He bowed and left her. He was convinced that he had just been lied to and that would have to be weighed in the balance when all the evidence came to be considered.

Tbc


	8. Chapter 8

**Nowhere to Run**

 **Chapter Eight**

To d'Artagnan's great frustration Orva had disappeared again. He didn't think she would be hiding in the house as he had been left with the impression that she rarely ventured out of the kitchen into the main part of the building. He spent more than thirty minutes roaming around the gardens without success. Finally, he wandered into the stables and found her sitting on a hay bale watching Montel muck out the horses. She looked up with alarm when he entered so he gave her a reassuring smile.

"I've been looking for you," he said, moving to sit close to her without making her feel threatened.

"I've done nothing wrong," she said in a low voice. Her face was hidden by the fall of her greasy hair.

"I'm not here to punish you. I just want to talk. Will you walk with me?"

Montel had stopped what he was doing to stare at them but hastily resumed his task when d'Artagnan looked in his direction.

There was a long hesitation before Orva nodded her head and got to her feet. They walked in silence for a while then d'Artagnan stopped and faced her.

"You know, murder is a serious crime. My friends and I, well we want to bring the killer to justice. The trouble is there are too many suspects and not enough evidence." He tried to catch her eye but she was looking resolutely away from him. "If a person knows something about a crime it's their duty to come forward." His words were met with implacable silence. "No-one can get into trouble for telling the truth. It's lying that causes difficulties."

Restless fingers began to pick at a loose thread in the hem of her blouse. "I don't know anything. I told you that."

"I don't believe you." Although he spoke without condemnation he saw her flinch. "Tell me what you saw and I promise that I will protect you."

"How can you? You'll be leaving here soon."

She made a valid point. He couldn't look out for her once he returned to Paris. "I'll ask the Priest to watch out for your welfare."

"He only comes here when he's sent for and that's not often."

"We'll find a solution," d'Artagnan said rather desperately. At this stage he didn't know who he would have to protect her from. He didn't even know if she would be believed if she told the truth. "Surely you don't want to live with this on your conscience."

Tears had begun to seep from her eyes. "Will I go to hell?" she whispered.

D'Artagnan hunkered down so that he could look up into her face. "You should talk to my friend, Aramis. He believes in a loving and forgiving God."

"I'm afraid."

"I know. Talk to me and we'll sort this out together."

She bit her bottom lip while she struggled with her decision. "It was early," she began hesitantly. "I don't know what woke me. I heard the door to the kitchen open and then there were footsteps."

"Did you see who it was?"

She nodded. "It was Cook. She looked upset and she was carrying her apron all bundled up. She crossed the kitchen and left again by the back door. I…I followed her. She was acting all strange and I was curious. I saw her go to the pond and unwrap something. Then, there was a splash. I hid then in case she saw me. When I looked again she had walked towards the wall that runs around the gardens. Behind it there's a lot of trees and bushes. No-one ever goes there."

"Did you see what she did next?"

"She must have thrown her apron over the wall because when she began to walk back she wasn't carrying it any longer. I took a shortcut back to the kitchen and pretended to be asleep. When she came back I heard water splashing. I took a chance at looking and she was washing her hands. She took the bucket then and threw the water outside. A few minutes later she came over to wake me up and we started making preparations for breakfast."

"Can you show me where she went?"

She led him past the pond and over to the wall. It wasn't more than three feet high so d'Artagnan easily vaulted over it. For several minutes he scrabbled around under bushes and trees before catching a glimpse of something white. The apron was stiff with dried blood. They had found the killer although he couldn't speculate as to the motive.

He returned to Orva who still looked at him with wide frightened eyes. "We need to take this to my friends."

She backed away and shook her head emphatically.

"Athos will want to talk to you. I know you're scared but you have done a brave thing by telling me what you saw." He held out a hand. "Come on. I'll be with you and I'm sure the Baron will reward you for your loyalty."

When she took his hand he heaved a quiet sigh of relief. They had physical evidence to tie Clair Vayle to the murder but they would still need Orva's testimony and that would be a huge ordeal for her.

They crossed the lawn and entered the chateau by the main doors. Orva looked around with her mouth open and he realised this must be the first time she had been in that part of the building. He stopped at the door to the study. "Stay here." He knocked and entered. Athos was in his customary place behind the desk. Sitting facing him were Josette and Father Aubert. Everyone looked at him and he saw that Josette had been crying. "Can I see you for a minute?" he asked Athos.

"Can it wait?"

"Not really."

"Excuse me," Athos said to Josette before standing and walking across the room.

D'Artagnan heard a raised voice in the hallway and hurriedly stepped outside. Vayle was looming over Orva with a firm grip on her upper arm. She was cowering away from him, sheer terror in her face.

"What are you doing here? Get back to the kitchen where you belong. I'll see to it that my wife gives you a whipping for sneaking around when you should be working."

D'Artagnan reached over and pried Vayle's fingers loose. "She's here because I asked her to be."

"What could you possibly want with that little…." His words trailed off as he saw the anger on d'Artagnan's face.

"Mademoiselle Josette is upset," Athos said. "I suggest you see if there is anything you can get for her." He stood aside so that Vayle had a clear path into the study.

The steward looked mutinous but did as he was told. Athos closed the door and looked enquiringly at d'Artagnan.

D'Artagnan held out the blood splattered apron. "I know who committed the murder," he said.

Tbc


	9. Chapter 9

**Nowhere to Run**

 **Chapter Nine**

"You have done well," Athos said once d'Artagnan had finished his tale.

Orva, almost too overcome by nerves to speak, had only managed to answer Athos' questions in the affirmative or negative. She was now huddled in a large armchair by the window while the four Musketeers conferred.

"I find it hard to believe that she is the culprit," Aramis said.

"We have no absolute proof that she is," Athos said. He held up a hand to forestall d'Artagnan's protest. "We know that she disposed of the murder weapon and the blood on the apron suggest she was present when the Baron was killed but that doesn't prove she wielded the knife."

"At the very least she is an accessory," d'Artagnan said. He looked deflated, having been so sure that he had identified the murderer.

"That is true and it would be enough to see her hanged."

There was an odd note in Athos' voice and all present knew the reason. Once before he had condemned a woman to the noose and it wasn't something that he could ever forget even knowing that she had survived.

"Are you goin' to tell the Baron?" Porthos asked.

Athos shook his head. "Not yet. He's likely to want to hang her there and then and we would never get to the truth."

"You'd let him do that?" d'Artagnan asked.

"He has the authority."

"Surely even a murderer has the right to a trial?" Aramis said.

"I will try to persuade him, although the outcome is likely to be the same."

'What do we do now?" d'Artagnan looked towards Orva and tried to imagine how she would fare in front of a Judge.

"We confront her with the evidence. Aramis, could you fetch her? D'Artagnan, I think it would be best if Orva is kept someplace else."

"I worry that she might bolt. She's terrified."

"Where would she go? This is her home. Her family lives in the village. I don't think she would go far."

D'Artagnan went over to speak to her and shortly after he escorted her from the room.

"Are you alright?" Porthos asked.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Faced with a brick wall Porthos shook his head and backed away from the topic.

D'Artagnan hadn't returned by the time Aramis escorted Clair Vayle into the room. Athos laid the knife and the apron on the desk and leaned forward. "Would you care to explain?"

She looked around frantically as if seeking an escape but with Porthos leaning against the door it was a forlorn hope.

"You were seen throwing the knife into the pond and hiding the apron," Athos continued.

"It's all lies," she said, her voice trembling. "I had nothing to do with the Baron's death."

"I doubt his son will believe that." Athos sat back and his gaze bored into her. "If you tell us the truth we might be able to help you."

"No-one can help me," she said and there was bitterness in her voice.

"We have enough evidence to condemn you," Aramis said. "If you don't speak up there can be no mitigating circumstances. Did you kill the Baron or are you covering for your husband?"

"You don't know what it was like living here," she said in little above a whisper. "The Baron and his son were always pestering me. One or other of them would come to the kitchen when my husband wasn't around and forcibly kiss me. The Baron went further. His hands were always wandering, touching me in a way only a husband should touch a wife. I told them to leave me alone. Threatened to tell my husband only I didn't dare. He's a jealous man and would just accuse me of leading them on."

"Did anyone see this behavior?" Aramis asked.

"Orva, I suppose, although who would believe her? There's no protection for a servant. The only option would have been to leave but who knows if we would have found another position like this."

It was the motive they had been looking for but she still hadn't confessed to the murder. There was still a chance her husband had found out and taken the law into his own hands.

"A few kisses, however unwelcome, is hardly a reason to kill someone," Athos said, hoping to draw her out.

She sat with her head bowed and her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "I've nothing more to say."

"Then you leave us with no option other than to talk to your husband."

"He won't speak up for me."

"But, would he kill for you?" Aramis asked. "If he struck the fatal blow, even if you were present, we can make out a case for leniency."

Her wavering high-pitched laugh grated on Athos' nerves. "Find someplace to confine her while we speak to her husband," he said.

Aramis took her gently by the arm and raised her to her feet. Athos could see that the marksman had been greatly affected by her tale. In truth, so had he, but he still had a job to do. D'Artagnan arrived back as Aramis led Madame Vayle out of the room. He looked expectantly at Athos.

"No confession yet. It seems that the Baron and his son were both attracted to her and assaulted her on more than one occasion. It doesn't seem to have gone beyond some kisses and inappropriate touching, although even that is inexcusable."

"What happens now?" d'Artagnan asked.

"We speak to her husband. Tell him what we have discovered and see how he reacts."

"What about the Baron? Do we tell him of her accusations?" Porthos asked.

"I think that would be counter productive at this stage. He would only deny it and I think there is more to the story than we have heard so far."

"What is going to happen to her?"

Athos regarded d'Artagnan somberly. "As things stand any Judge would condemn her even if only as an accessary. The penalty is death."

"The law is too harsh," d'Artagnan said.

"Murder is a heinous crime and those who become embroiled in it face the ultimate punishment."

"Would you still have tried to hang your wife if you had believed your brother tried to force her?"

Athos drew in a sharp breath at d'Artagnan's question. "We are bound to uphold the law, whether we believe it is right or not."

"That isn't an answer."

Porthos gripped the young man's arm. "Leave it, d'Artagnan. None of us can know what Athos went through."

"I know that." D'Artagnan's expression softened. "I meant no offence. I'm only trying to prove how unfair it is."

"I don't disagree with you," Athos said. "But, it is not our decision to make."

"I'll go and find the steward," Porthos said. "Maybe we'll get the truth out of him."

Tbc


	10. Chapter 10

**Nowhere to Run**

 **Chapter Ten**

The sun was starting its descent and everyone in the chateau was starting to feel the effects of a long and trying day. Athos, alone in the study, poured a glass of wine but made no move to drink it. Clair's story had struck a very unwelcome chord with him. For many reasons he distrusted Milady's assertion that she had killed Thomas because he had tried to rape her. However, a niggling little doubt remained and that had been brought forcefully to the surface by news of the Baron's indiscretions.

Clair had seemed sincere but he had nothing to measure her sincerity against. He had known the Baron for such a short time that it was impossible to know if he was capable of doing the things of which he was accused. Thomas, on the other hand, had never committed sexual violence against any woman, be she noble or commoner. It was inconceivable that he would have done such a thing to his own sister-in-law. Just thinking about Milady tied Athos' emotions in a tight knot yet now was not the time to drown his feelings in alcohol. He had a job to do and would do it to the best of his ability.

There was a knock at the door before Aramis entered followed by Vayle. The steward looked strained, with shoulders hunched and the arrogant tilt of his head missing.

"The carpenter has arrived with the coffin," Aramis said. "Porthos and d'Artagnan have gone to help."

Athos acknowledged this with a curt nod before gesturing to the chair. Vayle sat but didn't make eye contact.

"Were you aware that the Baron made several unwelcome advances to your wife?" Athos asked.

Vayle's head shot up and the shock was written plainly on his face. "I don't believe you. The Baron was a good man."

"You would disbelieve your wife? She was very specific in her accusations." There was no doubt that this was news, which disposed of the theory that Vayle had killed the Baron in order to defend his wife's virtue. Athos was disappointed. It was easier to imagine Vayle as the murderer.

"She must have misinterpreted his intentions," Vayle persisted.

"He kissed her, forcefully," Aramis said. "I don't think that can be misinterpreted."

Vayle deflated. "I didn't know. She never said anything."

"What would you have done if she had told you?" Athos asked.

"We would have looked for another position. I would never knowingly expose her to that sort of treatment."

"You wouldn't have been tempted to take matters into your own hands?"

"Are you asking if I would have killed the Baron? No. I'm not a violent man." The blood drained from his face as he realised the implication of what he had just said. "You don't think…Clair would never do something like that."

"She is the obvious suspect and, she was seen disposing of the murder weapon," Athos said.

In his agitation Vayle stood up. "If she is guilty she must have been pushed beyond her endurance. Please, Monsieurs, you have to protect her. The Baron will order her hanging and I can't watch while she dies."

"The Baron has every right to enforce the law on his own estate." Athos held up a hand to forestall any further protest. "However, we will do what we can to persuade him to allow this to go to trial. You understand, though, that if she is found guilty the outcome will be the same."

"She should have an opportunity to tell her side of the story."

"I agree."

"Can I see her?"

"Not at the moment. Her guilt has not been definitively established. She has further questions to answer. You may go. Don't leave the house."

After Vayle had shuffled from the room Athos drank deeply. "There appears to be little doubt of her guilt," he said. "We should place her formally under arrest and tell the Baron."

"I'm convinced there is more to her story," Aramis said.

"Perhaps."

"I'm going to speak to her again. There may yet be a way to save her."

"You are too soft-hearted. She is a cold-blooded murderer who deserves to die for her crime."

"If there are mitigating circumstances they should be heard."

"I don't disagree with you. I just can't see what would justify that sort of frenzied attack on an unarmed and vulnerable man. I won't stop you talking to her. But, Aramis, don't expect too much."

TMTMTM

Aramis unlocked the door leading to the storage room where he had confined Clair. She was sitting on a stool, looking more composed than at any other time that day.

"Your husband denied all knowledge of the Baron's behavior."

There was no reaction to his words. He walked closer leaving the door open. The light from the candle he had left her with cast shadows on the wall and across her face. Her expression had not changed.

"Tell me what happened," he implored.

"What good will that do?"

"It might persuade a Judge to leniency."

"There's no justice for the likes of me."

"You're wrong. Everyone is equal under the law."

She gave him a pitying look. "I didn't expect you to be so naive."

"You have to trust me. We know you killed the Baron but we don't know why."

She was silent for a long time before sighing. "It won't make any difference, but I'll tell you. Yesterday afternoon, not long before you arrived, the Baron came to see me in the kitchen. He told me he was tired of my resistance to his advances. He said he was going to send my husband and Darcell into town for supplies. His son was always out hunting and Mademoiselle Josette rarely leaves her room since she broke her ankle and it was set wrong. I was to go to his room and…and pleasure him."

Aramis looked shocked. "Surely you could have refused him?"

"He'd thought of that. If I didn't comply he would turn us out without a reference."

"You were willing to allow him to rape you in order to keep your place in the chateau?" Aramis asked.

"At first I couldn't see any alternative. Then I realised this wouldn't be the only time and I couldn't bear the thought of it."

"So you killed him."

She gave no acknowledgement. Through everything she had never confessed to the crime. Aramis wondered if she would plead not guilty. It would be a smart move as it would force the prosecutor to prove her guilt. The one inescapable flaw would be the evidence that she had disposed of the murder weapon. Few would believe in her innocence after hearing that. His heart was heavy when he left her alone. She had been caught in an invidious position and was likely to pay with her life.

TMTMTM

Athos found the Baron in his father's bedroom supervising the move of the body from the bed to the coffin. He cleared his throat to attract the young man's attention. Francois looked tired.

"If I might have a word Milord?"

"What is it? I have a funeral to plan."

"We have compelling evidence that points towards the murderer," Athos said.

The change in the Baron's expression was instantaneous. Instead of looking disinterested he was suddenly fully alert. "Who was it?"

"Clair Vayle, but there are extenuating circumstances."

"I'm not interested in excuses. Take her out and hang her."

Tbc


	11. Chapter 11

I'm sure you have all forgotten about this story. I returned to work from my medical leave and have been too tired to write. Now I have taken medical retirement and I found the energy and inspiration to complete the story. Enjoy the last chapter.

 **Nowhere to Run**

 **Chapter Eleven**

Athos didn't betray his thoughts by word or gesture. He simply watched the Baron steadily. "That would be a mistake, My Lord."

The Baron's face flushed with anger. "You dare to defy me?"

"I am merely cautioning you against making a rash decision."

"It is my right."

Those were the words that had haunted Athos for years. The family priest had urged restraint. At his other shoulder had been Catherine, spurring him on to vengeance with a vehemence bordering on hysteria. He had been almost paralysed with grief. His beloved younger brother lay dead at his feet at the hands of his equally beloved wife. She hadn't for a moment denied her guilt but, at the time, her excuse had lacked credibility. Now he was faced with another young woman with a similar story. He was determined that she would get the justice he had denied his wife.

"Neither I nor my men will follow that order. That leaves you with Vayle and Darcell and I can't see Vayle agreeing to hand his own wife. Let us take her to the nearest town to face the magistrate." Athos had made a conscious decision not to tell the Baron about Clair's allegations, sensing that it would only strengthen the Baron's resolve.

"You are only postponing the inevitable."

That was likely true. Was he doing her any favours by prolonging her life by a few days? Might she not prefer a quick death instead of the time t contemplate her fate? Yet he still believed her story should be told.

"Perhaps. That is for the court to decide."

"Have it your way, Musketeer," the Baron said grudgingly. "But you remove her from this house today."

"As you wish."

The nearest town of any size was three hours ride away and it was already early evening. Porthos was dispatched to get the horses ready while Aramis prepared their prisoner.

Athos, out of a sense of duty, sent for Vayle. He received him in the study with d'Artagnan for company. All the arrogance had drained from the steward's demeanour. His face was pale and his hands shook.

"Please sit," Athos said gently.

"Is it true?" Vayle asked, his throat dry and hoarse.

"It certainly looks that way," Athos said. "We are taking her to be tried by the local magistrate. She will have her chance to tell her side of the story. You are welcome to accompany us."

"I can't watch her die."

Athos understood. He, too, had turned away before the fateful moment. "The choice is yours."

"Can I see her?"

"I will have her brought here. You understand that we can't leave the two of you alone."

"Yes. Thank you."

"I'll go and get her," d'Artagnan said.

Athos and Vayle sat in silence. When the door opened Vayle jumped to his feet. Clair was accompanied by Aramis who had a loose hold on her arm. She looked preternaturally composed. Aramis let go of her and tactfully backed out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Vayle walked hesitantly towards his wife, stopping without touching her. "Why?"

She glanced at Athos. "He didn't tell you?" Something in her husband's face must have betrayed him. "He did but you didn't believe him."

Athos withdrew as far away from them as was possible to give them a semblance of privacy. He could hear the soft murmur of her voice without being able to distinguish words. After she had spoken for a few moments Vayle drew her into his arms.

"Why didn't you come to me?"

His angry words easily reached Athos' ears although her reply was indistinguishable.

Finally silence fell and they stood locked in each other's embrace. There was a knock at the door and Porthos slipped inside.

"The horses are ready."

"Are you coming with us?" Athos asked Vayle.

"I will follow tomorrow." He kissed Clair on the cheek and released her.

She left the room without a backward glance. Aramis, waiting with the horses, helped her to mount and they left the chateau de Berreyer behind them.

TMTMTM

The magistrate, a middle aged overweight gentleman, was less than pleased to have four Musketeers show up at his door just as he was getting ready for bed. He was even less impressed to hear that they had an accused murderess with them. By the time all had been explained and Clair had been locked up it was very late.

They took rooms at the first inn they found and Porthos bullied the landlord into providing food. Orva, who had ridden with d'Artagnan, was falling asleep. D'Artagnan picked her up and carried her to the small chamber where she would sleep. The bed was small and narrow but infinitely preferable to the lumpy mattress she usually slept on. She fell asleep quickly, worn out by the events of the day. He looked at her pityingly. Her greatest ordeal was yet to come.

By the time he rejoined his companions the food and ale had arrived. It was a simple meal of cold chicken, bread and cheese, but they all fell on it eagerly.

"We can't all stay for the trial," Athos said. "There are the King's letters to deliver. I suggest that the three of you continue with our mission. I can take care of things here."

"What about Orva?" d'Artagnan asked apprehensively. "She trusts me."

"I will see that she is well looked after."

The others had to concede that Athos was right. They had their duty to perform and couldn't return to Paris with the news that the letters had been delayed.

"I can stay if you wish," Aramis said.

Athos knew what had prompted the offer. "Thank you, but I was in charge of the investigation and should give evidence."

When they retired to bed all four were thinking of the lovely young woman whose life was almost certainly going to be snuffed out at the end of a rope.

TMTMTM

Two weeks after parting company with Athos, Aramis arrived back at the garrison. He dismounted and unfastened his saddlebags. The stable boy came out and led his tired horse away. He stretched to work the kinks out of his back before strolling across the yard. There were footsteps on the stairs leading to Treville's office. He looked up and smiled. Athos, who rarely smiled, nodded his head in greeting and walked down the last few steps.

"Welcome home," he said. "I'll fetch some ale."

"Porthos? D'Artagnan?"

"They should be back any day."

Aramis sank onto the bench at their usual table and waited for Athos. Once they both had a mug of ale in front of them he took a moment to scrutinize his companion. "What happened with Clair?" he asked.

A shadow crossed Athos' face. "She was found guilty and hanged."

"Didn't they listen to her explanation?"

"She didn't offer one. I tried to persuade her but she said she deserved to die for what she did. I don't know how much difference it would have made. The Baron was there pressing the magistrate to impose the death penalty."

"As was his right I suppose. It still seems wrong, though, that there is no protection for someone in her situation."

"She killed a man, Aramis, in a brutal fashion. I'm not unsympathetic but there can never been any justification for murder."

"You see things in black and white, my friend. Sometimes there are shades of grey."

"Not where the law is concerned." He sighed. "Was it wrong that the Baron could take advantage of her with impunity? Yes, of course. No woman deserves to be put in that position. But, she had a simpler remedy. She could have told her husband."

"Who may not have believed her. Even if he had, what would they have done? They had a good living at the chateau and work is hard to find."

"Do you excuse what she did?"

Aramis hesitated. "I understand her motive but, no, I can't condone her actions."

"Perhaps one day there will be more equality between men and women," Athos said thoughtfully.

"Not in our lifetime."

"Probably not but we can hope."

The End


End file.
